Would You?
by Elf Hime of the Twilight
Summary: This is a short story I had to write for English about moral choices, just posting it to know if it was a complete failure or I'll pass. And the situation is hypothetical, just written in first person. Otherwise it would just be...weird. So review please.


Would You

Would You?

Evil; human's nature to do something bad, which is sometimes used to fulfil a need or a desire. How far would someone be willing to go to fulfil this desire? Would someone be willing to break the law and human moral code so severely, just to satisfy some avaricious wish?

You would think that you would never have to deal with these questions, and hopefully it will stay like that. But you can never know, and when these questions are thrust upon you, you feel disoriented and confused.

These types of things can happen to anyone. I used to just be normal before I got caught up in this huge mess. I lived a fairly normal life with my husband and daughter, had a normal job, and worked to support my family like any normal person would do.

However life wasn't perfect. As common for most families, money didn't grow on trees for us. It was a gift and a privilege, and wasn't meant to be spent like the air we breathe. Nevertheless, just like all people desire more of something they can't have, my husband became greedy, and yearned to be richer, and live what he called a "happier and brighter future".

I used to believe that he was right, but that was a very long time ago, such a very long time ago…

All of this started a few months ago, when I was currently unaware of what was happening around me. I had just finished dropping my daughter off at school, and as I unlocked the door to my small house, the shrill sound of my telephone went off.

Grumbling at myself for forgetting to change the ring tone or at least turn down the volume on it, I hurried over to the phone, trying to get there before the caller would have to leave a message.

I picked up the phone and took a quick peek at the caller ID, but frowned when I did. I knew the number all too well.

It was the tax collectors' number, the true epitome of pure evil. Every month I try to avoid them for as long as possible, but then they always seem to catch up to me no matter how hard I try.

With a final sigh, I pressed the talk button on the phone, expecting the worst.

"Mrs. Addison, you still haven't paid your taxes this month," the voice on the other line said to me.

I let out another heavy and exasperated sigh. "I have the money," I told the caller, "I'll have it for you by the end of the week".

The conversation that ensued was a very long and very unpleasant one. After about an hour and a half, I hung up the phone and sat down in a chair at our petite kitchen, put my head in my hands, and tried to calm the roaring headache that pounded in my skull. Billions of questions ran through my mind all at once, making me feel helpless and lost.

What was I going to tell my husband? I couldn't just tell him that the money we were making was not enough to support us. He would be furious. I couldn't do that to him, not after how hard he'd been working.

I gulped as the first pangs of anguish began to rack my body, and roll down my face in the form of despondent tears.

Later that night, as me and my husband sat back down at the kitchen table, after my daughter was fast asleep, we discussed, in hushed voices, about our current financial situation.

When I told him about the conversation with the tax collector, his mouth turned into a hard, thin line, his expression unfathomable and his face totally unreadable. I might have caught a small glint in his eyes, but I didn't think much of it at that time. I tried to figure out what might have been going through his mind right then, but my efforts turned out to be completely fruitless.

If only I knew what he had been thinking then. Maybe I would have been able to stop him.

Over the course of the next few days, he began acting strange too. He would be gone for long hours during the night, and would sneak back inside the house in the early hours of the morning, as quietly as he left. Every morning he would have that same peculiar glint in his eyes, the one he wore the night I told him about the tax collectors.

I thought he might have been cheating on me, but I didn't have the audacity to ask him about it.

I pushed my husband's behaviour to the back of my head, and I had completely forgotten about it until a week later.

We had paid our taxes but there was no change in my husband's actions. I tried not to let this bother me and to get it of my mind I decided that I should watch the news. I soon realized that this was a horrible idea.

The TV flickered to life as I pressed the power button on the remote, and I listened to it as I washed the dishes.

However, as the minutes ticked by I grew less and less focused on the dishes and more on the news, my eyes growing as wide as saucers from shock.

The current headline on the screen read "Break in at Local Bank", but that was not what unsettled me.

The bank on the TV was our bank, and still this news continued to surprise me. The time that the bank was broken into was one of the nights that my husband had been away, and I didn't think the time of the break in was a coincidence anymore either.

It was an hour on foot from our house to the bank, and our car had not been removed from the garage that night. As well my husband returned at the exact time the police arrived at the scene of the crime.

As I fit two and two together, my eyes growing wider still, I accidentally dropped the plate in my hands. My husband stole from the bank to provide what I used to believe was a financial miracle.

When the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place I began pacing, completely forgetting the broken fragments of plate at my feet.

I kept passing by the phone. I swore it was purposely glinting at me, tauntingly, mocking me now.

With I final glare at it, I stopped my pacing and sat down, fidgeting while trying to sort through my thoughts in my already frazzled mind.

I had a few options, some plausible and some completely crazy. After another hour of contemplating I finally decided.

I left a message my husband's cell phone, telling him that it was urgent. He walked through our front door only half an hour later.

I was seated at our kitchen table, with the front page of the newspaper lying in front of me. I stayed silent as he took the chair opposite me.

"Explain," I demanded coldly, shoving the newspaper into his hands. He suddenly became very nervous.

"Please listen to me. Just listen to my side of the story. I-," he began, but I cut him off.

"How could you do this?! I trusted you!" I shrieked at him, completely loosing my façade of calm and coolness.

"What else was I supposed to do!" he said back.

We argued like this back and forth for a little while, both of us becoming more frustrated and agitated at the other.

I shook my head at his last rebuttal, hot tears of anger, hurt, and betrayal running down my face. If he felt like stealing was the right thing to do, it would only be a short leap to murder and who knows what else. I was mostly afraid for my daughter's safety. My husband couldn't be trusted with her any longer.

Getting up suddenly, startling him for a moment, I ran to the phone, praying that I would be able to get there before he caught me. I knew he would try to stop me.

Taking one last look between the phone and my husband, I took a deep breathe and called the police. I had made my decision, and there was no going back.

Evil; human's nature to do something bad, which is sometimes used to fulfil a need or a desire. Hence, evil must be stopped of course. However, what if the evil person was a person who you love and hold dear to you? Would you still try to stop them? Would you or would you not try to change their ways, even if that meant hurting them in the process? Would you choose love over law? Well, would you?


End file.
